


Cheers

by keep_waking_up



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Crack, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Samulet, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Christmas Eve, Sam and Dean get a little drunk.  Okay, a lot drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jalu2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jalu2).



> Written as a pinch-hit for jalu2 for spn_j2_xmas

Okay, so it’s Christmas Eve, they’re in some motel room, and they may be a little bit drunk.  Only a little bit.

“Deeeeannn,” Sam slurs before deciding to just fall onto him.  Dean lets out an “oof” as he lands.  He thinks about getting mad, but then he gets distracted by Sam’s bare chest.  Bare, because he’d accidentally spilled his whole bottle of beer on himself earlier.  He’d taken off his shirt and Dean had decided the beer shouldn’t go to waste, so they’d pressed the damp fabric to their mouths and had tried to suck the beer out of it.

Okay, so maybe they were a lot drunk.  Very drunk.  Whatever.

“Deeeeannn,” Sam whines, tugging at the amulet around Dean’s neck.  He’s pouting too, really going full out with the puppy dog look.  “Stop ignooooring me.”

“Not ignoring you,” Dean reassures him, somewhat distractedly.  He pats Sam’s chest a few times, smoothing his hand over golden skin.  He doesn’t know how Sam’s skin gets so prettily tan when the dude almost never takes his clothes off.  He has a hard enough time getting Sam out of them for sex.  “Too pretty to ignore,” he tells Sam, and attaches his mouth to his brother’s shoulder.  It tastes good.  A little like beer.

Giggling, something he only does when he’s drunk, Sam bats Dean’s head ineffectually a couple of times.  “Stop bitin’ me, Deeeeann.”  He keeps dragging Dean’s name out like it’s something he wants to say forever.  Or something.

Dean shakes his head before releasing Sam’s shoulder.  “Not biting,” he corrects.  “Sucking.”

“Got better things for you to suck,” Sam says, before snorting into obnoxiously loud laughter.  

Dean’s not hungover yet, but he’s used to thinking they need to be quiet.  He tries to shush Sam a couple of times, but just ends up kissing him.  Since kissing Sam is hardly a hardship, it all works out in the end.

Sam keeps using the cord of Dean’s amulet to pull him around.  It kind of irritates Dean, in a soft, fuzzy, not-really-irritated way.  He wraps his hands around Sam’s where they’re latched onto the cord.  “Stop pulling,” he grumbles, “or I’ll take it off.”

“No you won’t!”  Sam looks affronted at the very idea.  He pushes himself up on his elbows, so he can look down at Dean more easily.  He’s a little bit wobbly, but he manages.  “You wouldn’t ever take it off,” he proclaims assuredly.  “Because you looooove me.  This—” he pokes at Dean’s chest “—is a sign of your eternal devotion, and—and—”  

Even Sam can’t keep a straight face through that, and he starts laughing again.  He collapses back onto Dean’s chest and his lips brush against the amulet.  That seems to shock Sam out of his laughing fit; he rubs his lips against the metal a few more times with interest, before his gaze darts up to meet Dean’s.  Dean swears he can practically see Sam’s pupils expand as his brother moves forward just enough to suck the amulet between his lips.

“Sammy,” Dean murmurs, somewhat breathlessly, “what’re you doing?  Gonna...”  He doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, so he doesn’t.  Instead, he remembers something Sam said earlier and grins as he runs a hand through Sam’s hair.  “Got something better for you to suck on.”

“Cheesy,” Sam mumbles around the amulet in his mouth.  His cheeks hollow out as he does suck on the amulet, eyes narrowed and intent.  He pushes the amulet out of his mouth with a boyish grin of pleasure.  “I think I like sucking that better.”

Dean snorts, because he knows how much Sam loves his cock.  “Didn’t know you were the one with the oral fix—fixasien.”  He tries to say the word right, but it gets all jumbled in his mouth.  Sam laughs at him and he furrows his brow as he tries to get it right.  “Fizasion.  Fizzation?”

Sam’s laughing so hard that he rolls off Dean and onto the floor beside him.  There’s a pounding on the wall; apparently they’re being a bit too loud for their neighbors.  “Screw ‘em!” Dean yells, and throws a beer can at the wall.  Beer spills out onto the floor as he does so.  Guess it wasn’t empty.  “Oops,” he says, mourning the fallen beer.

This makes Sam laugh so hard that it sounds like he can’t breathe, and Dean gets concerned.  He sits up—too quickly, actually—and his vision blurs for a second.  When it comes back, he’s greeted by Sam’s very red face.  He bites his lip and puts a hand on Sam’s chest.  “Breathe!” He commands, as sternly as he can.  “Don’t wanna have to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

“Thought you liked givin’ me mouth-to-mouth,” Sam manages to wheeze out, before descending into another fit of cackling that would rival a hyena.  Dean gives him up for lost and pushes to his feet in order to clean up the spilled beer.

Walking’s kind of difficult, but Dean is a master hunter, so he manages.  He lets out a cry of triumph as he grabs the hand-towel in the bathroom and throws it on the ground where he thinks the beer was split.  He’s too lazy to actually mop it up; instead, he stumbles back over to where Sam is laying and throws himself into his brother’s lap.

This time, it’s Sam who lets out an “oof”, which has the added benefit of shocking him into silence.  He stops his snickering and wraps his arms around Dean to pull him down into a bear-hug instead.  “Deeeeannn,” he moans into Dean’s hair, “why’d you leave me?”

“Beer on the ground,” Dean tells him, and kisses his chest.  Normally, he’d never do such a silly thing, but Sam’s holding his arms captive—and that sounds funny, like Sam’s detached his arms and buried them away somewhere.  Dean snickers to himself at the thought, and drools a little on Sam’s chest.

“Oooh, beer?”  All of a sudden, Sam is pushing him off and scrabbling onto his hands and knees.  Dean lets out a discontented grunt as he lands on the hard ground, but his brother doesn’t even bother checking on him.  “Where?”

“No!”  Dean slaps the nearest part of Sam he can reach, which happens to be his ass.  What a nice coincidence.  Dean gives it another slap for good measure.  “Such a lightweight, Sammy.  No more beer.”

“But Deeeeann!”

“No,” Dean says firmly.  It is amazing how Sam can sound four years old in his mid-twenties. He does pretty good puppy-dog eyes too.  

“Does this mean you’ll suck my dick instead?” Sam asks pitifully.  “Should suck my dick.”

Dean lets out a huff.  “Fine,” he says petulantly, trying to appear reluctant, “but I’m not moving.”

“Fine,” Sam repeats, and with even less grace than usual, he clambers over Dean until his crotch is in front of Dean’s face.  “Can do it like this.”

His erection is clear in his jeans, and Dean pokes at it once, just to hear Sam hiss.  “Not with your pants still on,” he says wisely, and then begins the battle of actually getting Sam’s pants off.

By the time they do, it’s a couple of minutes later and Sam’s laughing again.  He’s also on his back, and Dean actually has been forced to move, which he’s very displeased about.  Still, he’s somehow ended up with his head between Sam’s thighs, so he thinks he might as well do the job he said he would, even if Sam is a cheating cheater who cheats and makes him move.

Sam’s dick is nice, Dean thinks, and licks at it a couple of times.  He also thinks it tastes nice, but might be better with some beer.  Or maybe pie.  He pouts a little, because he’d brought up the idea of putting pie on Sam’s junk before, and Sam had told him no.  Multiple times.  Dean still thinks it would be a good idea.

“Deeeean,” Sam whines again, because apparently he’s reverted to when he was three years old and Dean’s name was his favorite word.  “Why’d you stop?”

“Pie,” Dean answers, because it’s true.  

Sam’s brows furrow.  “Do you want pie?” he asks, and looks around.  “I don’t think we have any.”

“No, we don’t,” Dean says mournfully, which means he’ll had to put up with Sammy dick a la carte.  Which, in reality, isn’t too bad.

“Oh!” Sam moans, a little punched out sound as Dean takes him into his mouth.  Dean suckles at the head for a little while, just long enough that Sam’s groans start sounding a bit pained, before sinking further down.  When he’s sober, it’s harder for him to do this.  But he’s a little--okay, a lot--drunk, so he hardly notices it as Sam’s cock brushes against the back of his throat.

“Best mouth,” Sam tells him like he’s won a Grammy or something.  Dean can’t help puffing up with pride a little bit, because he knows no one has ever satisfied his little brother like he can.  After all, none of Sammy’s little girlfriends had a dick, or, apparently, could get his whole cock in their mouth.

He bobs his head a couple of times, before he gets a little bored with that.  He pulls off, despite Sam’s little whine of protest, and noses his way down to mouth at Sam’s balls.  He normally doesn’t like to put his lips on them, but he knows that he loves how it feels when Sam does it, so he tries to return the favor for Sammy.  Sure enough, the way Sam’s legs jerk spastically and the way he moans, all high and needy, make it worth it.  

It’s time to hit third base, Dean decides shortly afterwards, and tilts Sam’s pelvis up so he can hit the next stop on his tour of Sam’s nether regions.  He grins a little goofily as he sees Sam’s pretty little hole, and attaches his mouth to it straight off.  He doesn’t waste time with preliminaries; he pushes his tongue in almost immediately, getting Sam all nice and wet on the inside.  His eyelids flutter closed as he does so, and he lets himself relish the way Sam responds to him, pretty little mewls and whimpers that he doesn’t normally give so easily.  Drunk Sam is also apparently loud Sam.  Dean resolves to get him trashed more often.

Apparently, drunk Sam can’t hold off his orgasm very long either, because only a minute or so later, Sam is desperately tugging his head away.  “Dean, Dean,” he says urgently, “gonna come!”

Dean pushes himself up on his elbows, nodding.  Sam’s eyes immediately fix on his lips, which he imagines must be all red and puffy from the work he’s been doing.  Sam makes to grab for his cock, but Dean bats the hand away and grabs on himself.  “Where do you wanna come?” he asks generously.  

Eyes going all round, Sam’s eyes dart over Dean’s body, as if he’s overwhelmed by all the possibilities.  His gaze lingers on Dean’s lips for the longest time, before dipping down just a bit lower.  “The amulet,” he gasps out, and Dean positions his cock and begins jerking obligingly.  It surprises him how much he likes the idea as well--Sam coming on the symbol of them.  He jerks Sam a little faster and then forces himself not to flinch when Sam comes with a groan, lukewarm jizz splashing over Dean’s chest.

Glancing down, he sees the amulet is coated in sticky white.  A fresh burst of arousal runs through him at the sight and he moves up Sam’s body until the amulet is hanging in front of his mouth.  Sam stares at it with dazed eyes, and Dean ducks his head a little.  “Suck,” he commands, and watches, entranced, as Sam does so.

His little brother looks so content while sucking his come off of the little piece of metal.  He watches Dean warmly, and Dean watches right back, grinding his hard cock into Sam’s abdomen as he does so.  His breathing quickens as Sam sucks harder.  It’s when Sam releases the amulet to lick his lips smugly that Dean comes with a groan in his jeans.

He doesn’t bother rolling off of Sam; his brother can put up with his weight.  Instead, he stays right there, resting on Sam as his breathing calms.  

Sam is still licking the come off of his shoulders and shirt, making small contented noises as he does so.  Dean plays with the ends of his hair, all silky and smooth.  He’s going to fall asleep soon, he thinks, between the alcohol and the orgasm.  “Should move to the bed,” he tells Sammy, even though he doesn’t feel like moving.

“Nah,” Sam replies, and he sounds all drowsy as well.  “I like it here.  With you.”

Dean nods his agreement, nuzzling into Sam’s chest.  “Yeah.  Me too,” he tells Sam, and kisses the skin over Sam’s heart tenderly, even if it is ridiculously sappy.  It is almost Christmas, after all.


End file.
